


Warm Ale

by castaliareed



Series: Dark Sister, Dark Nights [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dark Jon, Darkish Sansa, Drunken Oral Sex, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Half-Siblings, Hot Springs, Jealous Jon, Mulled Ale, Oral Sex, Winterfell, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 21:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12873039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castaliareed/pseuds/castaliareed
Summary: Jon wakes to find him and Sansa almost freezing to death in the Broken Tower. He takes care of her as best he can. Sansa starts off cold but will be all warm and toasty in no time.





	Warm Ale

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 4 of the Jonsa Smut Challenge. Drunken Antics or Fantasies.  
> This is a continuation of Part 3/Chapter 3. And really just drunken antics. 
> 
> I don't even know what to say about this. Originally this was supposed to be where everything starts to fall apart with some drunk fantasies on the side. But nope! These two got a few more excuses in them. Even I was surprised. 
> 
> In the last parts, I've steered away from oral because it's really hard to be in denial or have dissonance when you have a cock in your mouth or your face buried in a vagina. Turns out I was wrong. Who knew!
> 
> Apologies for any typos or poor grammer, I've been writing these super fast!

**Jon**

The sun seeping through the cracks in the ceiling of the tower woke Jon. He didn't understand where he was. It was more than cold. His arms wrapped around a shivering body with frigid toes. Ghost slept near them attempting to keep her warm. He remembered a time North of the Wall before he had died and another in a tent south of the Wall after he had come back. Him and Ghost and her. If he wasn't frigid he would be angry at beast's presence. He buried his face in her auburn waves puller her closer to him. Yet, Ghost moved with her.  

 _In the tent south of the Wall the clothes were on us, not over us._ Jon didn't linger on those thoughts. She had nightmares, she was afraid that their enemies would come. Her legs moved and he heard her mumble his name. Then he realized her teeth were chattering. 

"Jon," she said again, "It's so cold." He woke up fully now. Seeing they were in the Broken Tower.  _How?_   It had no warmth and the fire in the hearth had long since gone out. Faint memories came back to him of dancing and kisses. There was no time for that. If it weren't for Ghost huddled next to her, she might have frozen to death. How could he have been so careless? He forgot to be angry at the wolf instead chiding himself. 

"Sansa," he said shaking her a bit. She moved and he saw her lips were turning a bit blue. "We have to get you warm." She pulled her legs up and curled into a ball. He saw a shift and small clothes laying about. They were covered in her gown and cloak. He rushed to put on his own clothes. Trying to help her dress it was no use. She was too cold. Getting her boots and shift on was all he could manage. He wrapped her in the rest as best he could and helped her stand. 

Slowly they made their way down the stairs of the Tower. Ghost on one side of Sansa, Jon on the other, supporting her as she hobbled along. Outside the Tower, Jon started to guide them to the Great Keep. How would he explain a frozen half-dressed Lady of Winterfell? Even in the early morning, he could see from a distance men in the yard. Jon had a better thought. 

Turning towards the Godswood he moved as fast as they could. She asked where they were going and he told her to get her warm. Once he entered the sacred place, he walked along the path, steam rose as he got closer to the hot springs. Light barely seeped through the trees. Jon felt the old gods watching them. He came to a large pool filled with steaming water. He set Sansa down near it.

"My toes sting a bit," she whispered. "I'm a Stark the cold shouldn't do this to me."

"Even Starks can lose a toe or nose to the cold," he said touching her nose. Her teeth still chattered. He brought her as close to the water as he could. Taking the boots that he had put on her feet in a hurry off, he helped her dip her toes in. She cringed. They would have to warm her gradually. She tried again once the steam warmed her more. Soon she could put her legs in. Jon helped Sansa lift her shift and slowly sink into the warm water. 

Sansa's hair floated above the water. Her teeth stopped chattering and her lips turned back to their normal pinkish color. Jon sighed with relief. He squatted on the ground next to the pool. 

"I'm so sorry," he said running his hand through her hair. 

"For what?" she said her eyes closed and her head leaning back. "We both fell asleep."

"I never fall asleep," he said. "You've could've frozen to death the one time I sleep." She laughed reaching her hand up to his arm taking his hand in hers.

"Our dancing made you tired then," she had a small smile on her face.  _Dancing how had dancing done that._  

"Aren't you cold too," she asked. 

When he didn't answer, she added, "Come in." He thought about the time they bathed together in a cave. She never mentioned that. Sansa only told him that they swam here, in the hot springs, when they were children. 

"Come in," she said again. Perhaps he should leave her in peace. Instead, he discarded his clothes and slid into the water next to her. 

She sighed, "I really thought a Stark couldn't freeze." He laughed. 

"You never seem cold," she said.

"I'm not a Stark,"

"Shh..stop that," she said her eyes still closed, her face at peace, her breathing slow. "You are to me."  _You are to me. Only to you my lovely sister._  All the lords and ladies and bannermen seemed to think he was a Stark now too.  _That was lies._  Before the battle, many of them were quick enough to point out that he wasn't.  He studied her face, the high cheekbones, the narrow nose, pink lips. Her face was not so long as his but not so round either. A woman's face, steam from the water rising around it. 

A father he loved, a brother he loved, a sister he loved, a woman he loved, the friends at the Wall, the men that betrayed him all faint memories. Their faces hazy. All he could see clearly from before was Sansa's face. Sometimes they flashed before him and he would try to catch them. He thought he remembered. Most of the time he had other things to worry about. 

Their thighs were touching underneath the warm water. He leaned back, stopping himself from pulling her onto his lap. She just almost froze to death. Jon didn't understand how they ended up in the tower like that,  _She asked you to dance. She kissed you. Lovely, kind Sansa, she always kisses you, soft light kisses._

Placing his hand on her thigh, "Are you feeling warmer?" he asked. 

"mmm," she nodded. Leaning her head on his shoulder, Jon was forced to lift his arm to place around her. She nuzzled her face into the crook of his shoulder. Her breath was soft, Jon watched her fall into a light sleep. _I'll protect you, I promise. Even when you say I can't._  He kissed the top of her head and his cock twitched.  

After a bit, he nudged her awake, "They'll be wondering where their Lady is," he said. 

"mmm...I suppose," she agreed. He pulled himself out of the water to dry and put his clothes on. Taking her hand he helped her out, using her shift to dry her. Steam billowed off her body and warm water dripped to the ground.

She wrapped her grey gown around herself while he held her cloak out for her. Her movements were slow, a pale tinge lingered, he even thought her toes were still a bit blue. She pulled her hood over her wet hair before she took his arm to walk back to the castle. Jon worried Sansa was still not warm enough or that she would fall sick from the cold. 

Eyes watched them as they walked across the yard from the direction of the Godswood so early in the day. Lady Brienne met them at the entrance of the Great Keep, worry on her face.

"My Lady, your grace," she bowed. "I've been searching for you. When you weren't in your chambers this morning. I feared. My lady, are you well." She saw Sansa's pale complexion.

Jon did not wait for Sansa to answer, "The Lady went to pray in the Godswood before the sun was up. It seems she fell asleep. It's lucky I found her," he said. 

"I see, your grace," she said. Brienne looked at him tilting her head. She nodded and accepted his answer though Jon was sure she did not like it.

"I'd like to go to my chambers," Sansa said to Brienne. The lady knight took Sansa's arm from Jon and began to walk away. 

"Lady Brienne, see that she is kept warm and looked after today," Jon said. The lady knight nodded despite the look of suspicion she gave Jon. 

The day wore on. By afternoon he found himself in his solar staring down at a map of Westeros. Reports from the Night's Watch claimed more wight sightings and more wildlings seeking refuge.  _Hadn't they already let them all across the Wall?_  Of all the faces he couldn't see, the Night King's face was clear as day.  _The dead were coming._ Nor did the southern part of the map give him relief. If they survived winter Cersei was waiting for them.If they were pushed south, well Cersei wouldn't have to wait for spring to make them bow. 

 _And now today's message from White Harbor talked of dragons on Dragonstone._ Jon hardly believed the rumors that the Targaryen princess had grown into a Queen that hatched dragons. Essosi fantasies he told his men at the Wall when he was still Lord Commander. Seems like those dragons where as real as him coming back from the dead.  _Real and on Dragonstone._

"Aye, King Crow," came a loud voice. Jon turned to see Tormund standing at the door of the solar. "The map ain't going nowhere. In honor of my leaving for Eastwatch they just opened a barrel of ale that 10 yr old had with her from the Island." 

Jon wanted to beg off. He was their King, not their drinking buddy. There was no time for drinking, he had to protect them, protect her. Shaking his head, Jon decided he was getting no further that night. It might be better to join Tormund and his Freefolk for one mug of ale. Sansa had told him that his Lord Father had sat with his men to gain their respect and learn about their lives.  

"Can you believe that lil' ladyling had a barrel of ale with her all this time," Jon could not, he told the Wildling commander. 

 "Said she was gonna to give it to man or woman that killed the most Boltons but lost count. Decided to honor my leavin', instead. Sweet kid that one." he said. Jon almost smiled thinking sweet isn't the word he would use for Little Lady Lyanna Mormont. The freefolk had different ideas about sweetness, he thought. True, she had taken a liking to the giant Wildling and he was becoming like a father to her. 

The Great Hall was a little more than half filled. Many had already gone to prepare to leave and others begged off still not comfortable with the Wildlings. Jon hoped that would change but knew it would take time. The men gave him slight bows as Jon entered, he motioned for them to get up. They choose him they didn't need to bend to him. 

At the table with Tormund and Davos, Jon took long slow sips. Letting the wildling and the former smuggler turned advisor to Kings do the talking. They refilled his mug several times while he brooded over his troubles. Lady Lyanna approached then to wish Tormund a safe journey.

"Your grace, I trust Lady Sansa is well," he looked up at her from his bench. 

"Yes," he said. 

"We heard she fell asleep in the Godswood."

"She's fine and resting," he assured her, ignoring Davos' question eyes. "Nothing to be concerned about."  _Nothing for you all to be concerned about._  

"Aye," said Tormund. "She's of the North. Cold can't hurt her." Lady Lyanna smiled. 

"I had warmed ale, mulled from the barrel we opened sent to her, your grace," she said. 

Jon thanked her and Lyanna Mormont retired to her rooms saying she had lessons early the next morning. Before she left the Hall she gave the giant Wildling an awkward hug.

Davos spoke once the little Lady of Bear Island left. "Lady Sansa, she is well, then."

"Yes!" Jon said again louder than he intended. 

“Ahh..redheads, kissed by fire, we are.” he bellowed tugging at his red beard. “That sister of yours as proper as Ygritte was wild. I’d say underneath it, she’s got heat in her enough to survive the cold. Can’t keep a woman like that locked up, Snow.”

"I don't," he said giving Tormund another long sideways stare. There was that name, Ygritte. He was supposed to have known her. She meant something to him. When he tried to think on her, he only saw Sansa. He asked Tormund once what she was like but Wildling man thought he was jesting with him.  _You knew her better then I did crow._

"Why'd the Lady go off to the Godswood at night then?" he asked. "I'd say that pretty sister of yours got herself a lover."

Jon growled slamming his mug on the table, then said, "Ya talking about the Lady of Winterfell." Tormund gave him a loud laugh. 

"Aye, ya kneelers are all the same. Aint nothing wrong with a lover," he said. "I'd be more surprised if she didn't have one or two." Jon jumped from the bench reaching for the sword he did not have.  He would have throttled the man for suggesting such a thing if Davos had not put a firm hand on his arm.

"Your grace," he said. "Tormund means no harm in his comments. You know as well as I, the freefolk have different customs then we do." 

"Different customs," Jon repeated sitting back down.  _Different customs. Tormund could be right. What would stop Sansa from taking a lover or two or three? She was no maid. No one would dare question it._

Tormund patted him on the back with a loud thud. "Ahh King Crow, ya have your kneeler customs. Queens that fuck their brothers, Queens that fuck dragons, if the Freefolk had Queens they'd fuck many lovers." He laughed loudly. 

Jon could've killed Tormund then and there. He clutched his hand, anger rising in his belly. 

Davos said, "Your grace,"

"What," Jon snapped. 

"Perhaps, I might retire. I've had more than enough ale," he said. "Walk with me to survey the guard first." Jon nodded and left the Hall with Lord Davos.

"Your grace, I mean no offense but you might've had enough ale, ya'self" he said. Jon was silent. Davos continued, "Tormund is good-natured enough. Others might not be so."

"The Lady of Winterfell will not be insulted," Jon said. 

"The free-folk mean no harm," he said. Jon turned to stare at him.

"I mean it," he said to his advisor. "I'll not have it. Make sure they know."

Davos left Jon at his solar with assurances he was heading to his chambers. Jon wanted to be alone. He thought to go over the map but the drink had made it hard to focus. Sansa, he hoped she was better. He had not seen her since the morning. Deciding to check in on her, Jon left the room. Wondering the halls, until he found himself outside the Lord's Chamber. A room fit for the Lady of Winterfell. The room he insisted Sansa have. 

Lady Brienne stood sentinel at the door. Jon asked if Sansa was well and found her resting. The Lady Knight let him into the room before he sent her away to get some sleep. He would protect Sansa tonight. The room was dark and warm, heated by the water flowing from hot springs underneath the castle. A small fire was used for light more than to heat the room. 

"Jon," Sansa called to him from the bed. She was propped up by pillows. Her auburn hair in a long braid hanging over her shoulder. A dark grey robe wrapped around her, revealing a hint of her pale breasts. The bed furs covering her to her waist. Candlelight near the bed making her eyes sparkle. 

Unable to help himself, Jon stared for a moment the words stuck in his throat. "Sansa," he said when he found his voice. "Are you better."

"Much, thank you," she replied. "There is mulled ale near the fire. It's still warm bring us some. If it pleases you."  _Oh it would please him._  Filling two mugs with the ale. Noticing, her cheeks were already a bit flushed, he did as he was bid. 

"Here sit next to me." She moved over to make room for him as Jon handed her the mugs to take off his boots. He wore a long grey wool tunic over his breeches. A tunic she had made for him. It was very warm under the furs, too warm for a heavy winter tunic. He pulled it over his head along with the wool shirt underneath, tossing both to the floor before taking the mug of ale back from Sansa. 

He watched her drink the warm ale slowly. Listened to her say how delicious it was even though she didn't usually like ale. Sansa asked for more. Seeing that Jon hadn't finished his mug. She assured him she could refill her mug herself. 

The table with the ale was closer to the side of the bed Jon was on. Sansa decided to climb over him. Half-way through her attempt to get out of the bed, his eyes widened when her furlined robe fell open exposing her beautiful teats as she hovered above him one leg on either side of his hips. Jon had been so worried in the morning he hadn't taken them in. Now, he did. Oh gods, now he did. 

"Oh," she giggled realizing what had happened. Sansa went to hold the robe together with one hand with her empty mug in the other. The ale must have gone to her head because she lost her balance. Trying to catch her, Jon dropped his mug, hearing it crash to the floor before her elbow fell right between his legs. 

"Ouuchhh," he cried out.  _Bloody hells that hurt._  A sharp pain that reached up to his stomach.Holding his injured crotch he rolled on to his side in pain.

"Oh my gods, Jon!" she cried out. "Oh I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Are you ok." She rubbed his back and tried to hold him while he moaned. She continued to say she was sorry. The pain started to recede. Jon inhaled deeply. Sansa continued asking if he was ok. Seeing the worry on her face, Jon tried to assure that he would be fine. 

"Shall, I get the maester?" she asked. 

"No, my lady," he said. "Not the first time I've been hit there. Tho, first time a lovely lady has done me the honor."

"Yes, perhaps, perhaps, it's not best for the maester to come," Sansa said becoming shy, pulling her robe tighter. He inhaled again and groaned. The pain was mostly gone now. 

"Let me check it," she said. "Just to make sure."

"Aye, you're a maester, now?" he asked. The drink most certainly had gone to Sansa's head. 

"And why couldn't I be?" she said in defiance. 

Jon shook his head, "Never seen a maester as pretty as you."

"Just because I'm pretty, doesn't mean I can't be a maester," she said. "They should let girls be maesters." Something told Jon, Sansa might not like a maester's celibate life but before he could say more she forced him sit up leaning against the pillows and was unlacing his breeches.

"Now let me check you," she said. He sighed knowing that when Sansa was determined there was nothing he could do to stop her. 

She held his somewhat flaccid cock in her slender hands. Examining it like it was shirt she was about to mend. Tilting her head while she looked at every side. She cupped his bruised balls, too and he found his cock didn't seem to want to remain flaccid. 

"Do they still hurt?" she asked. 

"Aye, a bit," he replied. She leaned over to kiss one of his balls.

"There does that help?" she asked.  _For all that is good in this world that helps,_ Jon thought.  

"We have to make sure it still works," she told him. Giving his balls another soft kiss and another and another before covering his cock in the same soft kisses.  _What an amazing, kind lady, Sansa was. To take care of him like this._  

His belly full of warm ale and his cock rapidly stiffening, "Aye, we better make sure, my lady." She smiled and her robe fell open while she concentrated on healing his manhood. Pulling his foreskin down, her kisses turned into licks. By the time she took his whole cock into her mouth, Jon Snow swore he never felt harder in his worthless bastard life.

"Oh gods..Sansa..I think it's working," he moaned placing his hand on her hand as she bopped up and down. His cock reached the back of her throat and she pulled so slowly giving the tip an extra long suck. He was so close to spilling his seed he grabbed her braid and she let out a small yelp. Then she moved her head faster up and down, up and down, until Jon saw stars. She drew her mouth away just as everything in him squirted into the air landing on her chest. He fell further back into the pillows, closing his eyes. 

"Oh Jon, look at the mess," she said. He mumbled something and handed her the shirt he had worn under the tunic to wipe the mess. Tossing it on the floor, he would have it washed later. 

Sansa snuggled beside him, petting his arm, telling him how happy she was that he was not hurt and promising to never injure him again. 

"It's, I who should be asking your forgiveness," he told her.

"Why?"

"I let you almost freeze to death this morning," he said.

"Jon, I told you, it was both our faults," she said. A thought came to him. He had come to the room to make sure she wasn't still feeling the effects of the cold and still he had not checked her body. It felt ashamed after she had taken care of him so well.

"I haven't even checked your injuries. Are your toes still blue?" he asked. 

"They are much better," she said. "Here see for yourself." Throwing the furs aside, she showed him her toes that were attached to her feet that were attached to long slender legs. Jon moved toward them to examine them more closely. He held her feet and rubbed her toes. 

"Are you sure?" he asked. 

"Well, sometimes they do still tingle a bit," she said. Jon brought her foot to his mouth, kissing each toe. Then gently taking the other foot to do the same. 

"I should check the rest of you," he said. "Just in case."

"Oh yes," she said. He rose up examining her legs and giving them soft kisses. He got to her inner thigh before remembering to check her ears. 

"Oh Jon, don't stop," she started to say when he rose to brush her braid aside and make sure her small ears were the proper color. They were and he gave each a kiss and a little bite. She squealed with delight. He slid the open robe off her shoulders and made her lean forward to look at her back. He was shocked to see bruises.  _How did that happen? From the dancing perhaps._ It made no matter he gave her kisses there too. Though, he preferred kissing her neck. 

"Jon," she said a bit breathless. "You haven't checked the front of me yet."

"Aye, I haven't forgotten," he said. He turned his attention to her chest. "Wouldn't want to lose these to the cold." And he sucked each nipple long and hard. 

"Oh gods, no," she agreed with him. He moved down her stomach to the place between her legs. 

Finding her nub, he added, "Wouldn't want to lose this either. Shall we see if it still works properly?"

"Oh yes, yes please," she said through heavy breaths. Jon wasted no time licking and sucking and using his fingers. Sansa's hips lifted, she moaned, grabbed his hair until it was torn from the tie holding it back. Wetness poured out of her, drenching his beard. He concentrated harder making sure every bit of Sansa's womanhood had survived the cold. It had. It most certainly had. 

Her legs wrapped tighter around his shoulders and neck. Jon could feel them shake as she moaned and cried out. She gripped the bed furs, sitting up she yelled to the seven, the old gods, and the new. When she fell back again and he knew she finished, Jon saw tears streaming down her face. He took her in his arms, rocking her. 

"Are you alright," he asked with concern.

She nodded, whispering, "Thank you."

"I think you survived the cold," he said. She smiled and he wiped the last of her tears away. 

Sansa fell asleep in his arms. Before the light of dawn came, he nudged her awake saying it would be best for him to return to his chambers. She nodded and he kissed her forehead. He put on the grey tunic over his breeches and his boots back on. Walking out of the room, he almost ran into Lady Brienne. 

"Lady Brienne," he said surprised that she had returned to her Lady's door.

"There were loud sounds heard, my grace," she said. "Is Lady Sansa well?"

"Sounds?" he asked. "Lady Sansa's fine. I was there protecting her." Lady Brienne nodded. Realizing his head was throbbing from the warm ale and that his mouth was dry, he turned to leave. Jon could feel her eyes on him. He hurried his pace down the hall, away from Sansa's door. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Mulled Ale or Warm Ale is a thing. And of course, GQ recipes were the first to come up in the googles. Again, who knew!  
> http://www.gq-magazine.co.uk/article/mulled-beer-recipe
> 
> Happy holidays! And thank you for all the amazing comments on the last parts! I will try to get to everyone. :-)


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